New Fic: Idle & Blessed, Chapter 2/20

[rabid1st]

IDLE & BLESSED
by Rabid1st
Doctor Who
Ten/Rose
AU from “The End of Time”
Rating: Mature Eventually

Beta: Keswindhover

Warning: This is not a Ten2 story. He is gone, but, not forgotten, exactly.

Summary: The Tenth Doctor has been archived into a biometrically identical vessel. He's worked out everything but the impossible bits and now has to work out what to do next.

“I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?”
~The Summer Day by Mary Oliver

Part One: http://rabid1st.livejournal.com/379479.html


The smelling salts worked a treat. His eyes popped open, burned like the dickens and started watering. He pushed Jackie away from him. Once the noxious vapors cleared his head, it took the Doctor .248 seconds to work out what had happened. Well, everything but the impossible bits and those could wait. He'd been archived. Successfully, it seemed, because .248 seconds was a respectable mental response time for a post-regeneration calculation.

Several glitches in his autonomic systems troubled him. The worst of it was, he'd become almost entirely subjective. External sensory information was practically nil. Also, he kept gasping for air. Of course, one heart meant no respiratory bypass. He could hear the echo of his pulse beating in his ears. Blood glurgled sluggishly through his veins. And everything tasted weird. He wondered if he would be able to adjust his sensory palette with a little practice once he'd sorted out the new nervous system.

There were apparent balance issues. He instantly regretted the attempt he made to bound to his feet. He propped himself somewhat upright and took stock of his surroundings. Rose lay nearby. Sky. Surf. Jackie bashing her phone on the sand.

“Right. Note to self. No bounding about,” he said. After a brief hesitation, he added, “At this juncture.”

Resorting to traveling on hands and knees, he scrambled toward Rose. But he couldn't quite reach her. She emitted a temporal field that would have easily incapacitated a full-fledged Time Lord. As it was, searing heat stopped him when he drew close enough to touch her. He jerked back with a yelp and reflexively jammed the sore fingers in his mouth. Horrible salty taste. He spat them out again, gagging as he turned to Jackie.

“Sh-Gah—she's burning up. Literally burning,” he said. “Can you feel it?”

Jackie gave up on abusing her mobile to put a hand on Rose's brow. “She's a bit warm, yeah.”

“A bit?” He squeaked. After a shaky breath, he let his head nod as he gave the problem some thought. “Right, then, I'm hypersensitive. Probably. Well—good. I mean, not, good, but less—what? Catastrophic.”

If Jackie couldn't feel the heat, it might not be life threatening to Rose. On the other hand, the forces at work could be outside human sensory range, like most radiations. Didn't mean they wouldn't kill you. Oh, he really shouldn't think about how many things could kill him. Radiation poisoning. Blood poisoning. Poison poisoning. Peanut allergies. Choking on a chip. Stop it. Rose needed him focused.

His hybrid physiology would be more attuned to any temporal energy. That made sense. He was, essentially, a unique creation, part human/part Time Lord. Eww. No. Don't think about the repulsive implications of the Meta-Crisis. Part Donna. Lovely, jolly, brassy Donna. He let out a breath slowly. Yes. Thinking of Donna made it easier to stomach this new form. And stomach it he must. He didn't want to experience the taste of bile again, not any time soon. That's the human experience in a nutshell for you—random fluid secretion. Gallifreyans had very efficient elimination systems. Waste not. Want not. But humans spurted something out of one orifice or another with alarming regularity. He'd have to get used to sweat, urine, bile, phlegm. Spit. Semen. Good Night, Moon, he hadn't thought of that. There was bound to be fluid exchange, eventually. How anyone could call that “getting lucky” was beyond him.

Still, no use crying over—well, whatever he'd be spilling, was there? Not milk, he hoped. Generally speaking, human males did not have active mammary glands. But he was part Donna and Donna was female, so it was possible he'd eventually start lactating. But, that was a worry for another day. He'd manage his bodily functions when the time came. Sooner rather than later, if the pressure under his navel were any indication of those things. He looked around for a suitable boulder or bush to duck behind in lieu of a loo. He supposed he must hide his excrement away, since the rest of them did. Assuming he was going to be stuck here, he'd need to resign himself to mimicking human social norms.

It wasn't like he hadn't had practice. Put some Time Lords in his position and they'd go mad in an instant. Or soon put Caligula to shame. At least he was properly housebroken. He'd been keeping up appearances as a human male for centuries. More or less blending in. He was without a doubt the best suited of his kind to this sort of archiving. He'd given being human a lot of thought, even taken the plunge once. Though, in retrospect, that hadn't gone well. And he only had the retrospect, having left his Time Lord essence behind in a pocket watch for that adventure. Still, Human/Gallifreyan—er—let's say, union, had always intrigued him. He'd even explored some of the possibilities presented by compatible physiology. There was no sense denying his curiosity had gotten the better of him from time to time. And, after he'd met Rose, he'd extended the limits of that curiosity well beyond mere mimicry. He loved her, to be forthright about it, and he almost didn't care who knew.

“Are you just going to sit there staring at her?” Jackie's accusing tone cut into his musing.

“What? I mean, no. No. No!” He caught himself up short, before he could say “no” again, sniffed and focused on Rose. One hand drifted to the back of his neck. He ruffled his hair. Then, he tentatively reached for her again, but quickly pulled back. "Jackie, I'm going to need your help. I want you to open one of her eyes for me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Eyes. Open,” he snapped, closing his own. He pinched the bridge of his nose with thumb and index finger. “Could I be any clearer?”

His exasperated tone put Jackie back on the defensive. She bristled, as she moved hastily to Rose's side.

“Look here, you bleedin' useless twig! So far you've dragged us across the universe, involved us in your personal war, abandoned us in the arse end of nowhere, cloned yourself and let the other one of you swan off with your ship. Rose tells me you're brilliant, but I haven't seen any sign of it.” Even as she berated him, she shifted around to gently lift her daughter's right eye lid. Fire swirled in the glassy orb she revealed. The sight caused Jackie to recoil. “Oh, her eyes! Wha's wrong with her eyes?”

Fear gripped his innards. The Gallifreyan part of his nervous system valiantly attempted to override a wave of human stress hormones, but failed to avert the chemical tide. It swept him into his first panic attack. Adrenaline coursed through his blood stream, triggering a host of reactions. His heart raced. Breathing and thinking became nearly impossible as his chest muscles tightened. Oxygen saturated blood flowed to his extremities, leaving his internal organs deprived. Fight or flight, he thought. It's an adaptive response. Just ride it out. Don't run. Don't run. Breath. He was shaking.

How did humans tolerate such an onslaught? No small wonder they were perpetually cranky. Not to mention incurably impulsive. He started a Venusian Aikido chant in his head. Go to your happy place, his teacher used to say, and he'd wondered what she'd meant. Now, he swallowed the lump in his throat and groped for a meditative calm. Slumping forward, he dropped his chin to his chest, so his head hung below his shoulders. In that position he took a few cleansing breaths. He'd have to take up Aikido again, or yoga or—or tax preparation. He could see why so many people turned to drug use, but he doubted it was an option he could tolerate.

“Doctor?” Jackie touched his upper arm. “Don't leave me.”

“Yes. No. I'm—just...Uh...thinking.” He lifted his line of sight until his eyes met hers. “This is bad, Jackie. She's channeling the Time Vortex. It's protecting her, but burning up her mind.”

“Well, you just stop it,” Jackie ordered, gripping his arm tighter and giving him a shake.

“Yes, I had thought of that,” he said. “But it would kill me. And I can't regenerate.”

“I don't care. She needs you. My Rose needs you.” Jackie glanced down at Rose's still form and her grasp on him slackened. “She crossed the universe to find you. She wouldn't stop. I pleaded with her, but...she just kept trying new things, alien things. When they built that cannon, I knew--,” her voice broke, “I knew she would go.” She shook her head and looked back to him. “But she's still my little girl. And you promised to keep her safe.”

The chemical roller-coaster took control again, slamming him through a few emotional hairpin curves. “Don't you think I know that?” he yelled, baring his teeth as he flung her hand away. Anger brought him to his feet, staggering a little, but too upset to notice. “This is why I left. To protect her. I did everything I could to protect them. It's not my fault they never listen. Nobody ever listens. I tried to save her. And Donna. And the other one. I tried to save all of them.”

But even as he denied his part in this tragedy, his new capacity for shame kicked into high gear. It was all his fault. His already over-developed sense of responsibility would be apologizing any minute. He always blamed himself, so why shouldn't other people blame him, too. At this rate, he'd end up a Church of Scotland convert. He stole little girls away from their homes, their mothers, and he encouraged them to become more like him. Reckless. Dangerous. Capable. Awe-inspiring. The stuff of legends. All too often his encouragement destroyed them. But nothing stopped Rose. She just kept coming, growing stronger. When it came to outsmarting him, she had proven to have a remarkable capacity to adapt. She was more like him than anyone else he knew, she was the one thing he believed in and so he'd always understood that she would find him again. Leaving Rose behind was not an option, as he'd told her many times. He just hadn't quite explained why.

As his anger ebbed away, he collapsed back into a seat on the sand. “I'm sorry,” he told Jackie. “I'll do what I can.”

He began patting himself down, emptying his pockets. The Handyman had made good use of his time alone in the TARDIS. Memory fragments told him Handy had pilfered a number of useful gizmos, not the least of which was a piece of TARDIS seed-coral. Now, that would make life much easier for all of them, one day, but not today. Today, he needed a far cruder piece of equipment. And, at last, his fingers closed around it. Crowing, he yanked it out into the open and waved it in triumph.

“Blood pressure cuff?” Jackie asked, assessing the heavy leather gauntlet he held aloft.

“Vortex manipulator,” he said. “Pinched it. Oh, yes!” Grinning madly, he snatched up his spare sonic screwdriver from the sand. He gestured at the extensive piles of loot around him. “Look at all of this booty. I was never a boy scout, or a pirate, well, not officially, but I came prepared. I thought of everything.”

“Even Rose in a coma?” Jackie sneered. “Do take time to gloat.”

“Sorry.” He blushed. “Oh, that feels weird. Blushing.” Like a tingle and burn all over his face. It went well with his slight sense of contrition. He coughed self-consciously and tucked the delight with himself away to savor later.

“Doctor, please, help her,” she said. Then, she nodded at the cuff. “Will that make her better?”

He opened his mouth to explain about the manipulator, took in Jackie's puzzled expression and shook his head. “It will help, I hope.”

Gritting his teeth for the ordeal, he edged close enough to Rose to place the device against her wrist. Unfortunately, his fingertips grazed her skin. She ate him whole. The energy surged like a breaching behemoth and took him. He fell into a maelstrom of churning power. His screams ripped the flesh in his throat. But he didn't care about the pain. He was a Time Lord again, for a second or two, as the Vortex digested him. Paradoxically, inside the storm, he felt more like himself. He could sense his position in time and space. Creation made sense again. It was a clockwork entity. Gears turned as they were meant to turn. He understood. Everything that is, was or shall ever be lay wanton before him. He could pick and chose what to spare or destroy. This was the ultimate temptation, to be a true God of Time. The Wolf could enter him, too. He and Rose would be Gods together. They could tread the paths of time and pop the bubbles of as many alternative universes as they liked. The Doctor and Rose, together forever, as it should be.

“I've got you,” Jackie said, as he fell backward into reality.

She'd wrapped her arms around his chest and wrestled him away from Rose. Desperate to return, he struggled to be free, but Jackie held on, even when his elbow slammed into her ribs. Luckily, he wasn't at his full strength.

“Ow. Bugger. You behave,” she said, slapping his shoulder. “This is for your own good. You've gone off your head again.”

He growled low in his throat and rolled over to shake her loose. She pinned him, her grip something out of Greco-Roman wrestling. He'd just realized he would need to kill her, when sanity returned to him. Going boneless, he lay still, panting. He turned his head a little to wipe a bit of spittle from his lips.

“Well, this is embarrassing. And blushing does not help anything as far as I can see. It's simply uncomfortable. Speaking of,” he said, as his breathing steadied, “you can get off me.”

Jackie didn't shift, at first. But, when he'd remained quiet for a bit longer, she let out a sigh and relented, rolling to one side. They both sat up, avoiding one another's gaze as they brushed at sandy clothes.

“This is what she goes through, is it?” Jackie asked on the heels of the strained silence. “Traveling with you? Utter madness all day long?”

“No. Not all day,” he said. “Sometimes we dance.” He caught her eye and smiled and they both chuckled away the tension.

“So? Back to it,” Jackie said, pushing up to her knees. He offered her a hand on the elbow.

“Right. You'll have to buckle the manipulator around her arm,” he said, nodding at the device. “Since I can't touch her. And, I'm sorry, but you'll have to come with us.”

“O'course I'm coming,” Jackie said, dismissively. Then, she cocked her head. “Where are we going?”

“I'm sorry, Jackie. So sorry. But, we can't stay here.”

“On a half-frozen beach in Norway? Too right we can't. We need to get Rose to a hospital or...”

“No, I mean. Here.” He pushed both hands down indicating the ground under them. “This time. This planet. Earth.”

“Whadda ya mean, Earth?”

“Uh, we are leaving this planet. And you have family here. Pete and—little, little—what's his name? Tony! You have a life with people who need you and...”

“Rose needs me,” Jackie interrupted him. “Right now, that's all I care about. She's my daughter.”

“I know, but, I'm not perfectly certain you understand...”

“Oh, you are so patronizing sometimes. You don't think I knew we might not make it back when I followed her? I knew we could get lost or die. But, she was determined to find you. So, I had to go with her. Even if it meant never seeing Pete or my Tony again.”

Suddenly, he was misty eyed. “She is your daughter,” he said, placing a hand to her shoulder.

Jackie gave him another pat. He was starting to like them. “We have to save her, Doctor. You tell me what to do and I'll do it. First, I buckle this thing on her arm. Then what?”

“Read off the numbers from the display. They will keep scrolling past.”

Jackie glanced down, tilting her head to read. “There's a six and a curly squiggle and some dashes,” she said, squinting at the manipulator. “Wish I'd brought my reading glasses. But then, you never expect to be programming doodads in space, do you? Thought I'd leave all of that up to you lot, but it just goes to show...”

“Try these,” he said, pulling a pair of spectacles from an inner pocket and handing them over.

Jackie slipped them on and exclaimed in delight. “Oh, that's loads better! What prescription you got?”

“Adjustable to the wearer,” he said, beaming at her. “Twenty-second century optics. Just around the corner.” He lifted a brow as he bobbed his head at Rose. “The numbers?”

“Well, I've lost my place, now, haven't I? Wait, there's the squiggle again.” She read the symbols and digits off to him one at a time. Clearing a space in the sand, he used a finger to draw circular patterns on the cleared patch, repeating after her as he did. “...sixteen, twenty-eight, zero seven, wavy thing, spiral, three, triangle...” He glanced up, frowning, at her. “Triangle? Do you mean pyramid?”

“It's spinning, so maybe.”

“Flat on the bottom?”

“Yeah. And a sideways eight and that's all. We are back to the squiggle six.” She shifted around to peer at the designs he'd drawn. “How is this going to help Rose?”

“That, Jackie, is a vortex manipulator,” he said, as he busily filled his pockets with all of the things he'd removed from them earlier.

She made an impatient noise. “So you've said. Tell me how it will help Rose for you to draw in the sand.” The shrill edge returned to her voice. She ran a hand along Rose's brow, smoothing back her hair. “Stop wasting time. Rose could be dying.”

“She's not. Not yet. And a Vortex Manipulator does what it says on the box. It manipulates the Vortex. And right now, the Vortex is inside of Rose. These,” he gestured at his circular patterns, “are calculations, written in my language. Using the coordinates you just read to me, I've calculated a trajectory. We are going to manipulate the Vortex out of Rose's head. Only,” he held her gaze with a solemn stare, “it's not part of this universe, which complicates things.”

“I don't understand a word of that,” Jackie sighed. “And I don't see why you always have to make things so complicated.”

He tried charades, acting out with his hands. “Right. Keeping it simple, time travelers use that,” he pointed at the manipulator, “to bounce off of the Time Vortex, a swirly sort of energy. They travel with it, like a surfer or a jet ski on a wave. But this Vortex isn't a wave. It is more of a—what? A well. It's just there in her head. We need to tap that well and use up the excess energy. Imagine Rose is a car with a full tank of petrol. We have to go somewhere to use up the fuel. Technically, we don't have to go. We could just send Rose, but we don't know where she will end up and I'm obviously not about to risk losing her, so, allons y.”

“Right. Enough explaining. Just get on with it.”

Squinting his eyes shut, he clutched at his hair for a second. He counted to ten. Not as slowly as he would have liked, because she yelped his name. “Doctor?”

“Still here,” he sighed. “Getting on with it. But I'm going to need your help. You know my ship? The TARDIS?”

“Oh, don't start again.”

“My ship?” He insisted. When she looked blank, he grew exasperated. “The blue police box?” Even when she nodded, he glared a moment longer before continuing, “She's not, exactly, a ship. She's a living being, linked to, drawing energy from, the Time Vortex. Like Rose is now. I program the TARDIS to tell her where to take me, by using various computer interfaces. But, for Rose, I'm using that,” he nodded at the cuff. “Or rather, you are.” Jackie looked completely confused. He waved a dismissive hand. “Never mind how it works. You see that mauve button?” Jackie nodded, moving her hand toward it.

“Don't touch it. Ever.” She flinched back at his hard tone. “That's the transmit control. Stay away from it. Don't. Touch. The mauve!”

“Finally, he starts making sense,” Jackie grumbled under her breath. She avoided his eye, looking out to sea. Probably so he wouldn't see her tear up, he expected.

“Jackie?” He spoke softly to call her attention back and sooth her feelings. “Trust me. Press the yellow input button and enter these coordinates: R'elsyncu—er, that is, wavy thing, fifteen...” He patiently recited the rest of the numbers and symbols required for reprogramming the manipulator. When Jackie finished entering everything, he peered past her to check her work. “That's it.”

“Now we can go?”

He glanced around to make sure he had everything. Then, he took a breath and nodded. “Press the green button. That's it. And take my hand.” She did, her fingers squeezing his. “Hold on to Rose with your other hand. Don't let go of us. When the numbers settle into a stable configuration, I will press the transmit button and, well, it will be a bit unpleasant. You might feel a little sick. It's not dangerous. But it will feel strange. There will be nothing but darkness for a second. No air. No sound. No light.”

“Doctor? I'm scared,” she said, tugging at him just as his free hand moved toward the control panel.

“Me, too,” he told her, then, realizing that was hardly reassuring, he gave her hand a squeeze. He pasted on what he really hoped was a confident smile. “Come on, it's not that bad. Like switching a light off and on again. Over before you know it. You'll have a bit of a headache is all.”

She nodded, smiling back at him. He pressed transmit and instantly regretted it. The universe slammed a lid down on him. A millisecond later, Jackie screamed. A clear sign they'd arrived. He drew a breath of fresh air into his starving lungs and took stock of their surroundings. They were still by the ocean. Brilliant. After all of that, they hadn't moved. He felt a flash of frustrated disorientation, until he glanced up and saw a long wooden dock and a city beyond it. That looked promising. They'd made it somewhere else, at least, and the air was breathable.

If his calculations had been right, this was Cignus Minor Three, circa 2785. The sky had the right tinge, pinkish with fluffy purple clouds. It was sunny. The sun seemed to be at the proper distance and exhibited appropriate signs of decay. His half-human tongue offered no further spacial insight. The air tasted like...what? Apples? He sniffed. Nothing on the wind but the scents of rotted fish and sea spray. It was eerily quiet. He held up a finger, then all of his fingers, and felt a slight eddy of cosmic gravitational pull, but no definitive information. No matter. There appeared to be a spaceport in the distance. So, wherever they were, they were closer to civilization than they had been a moment ago. And Rose felt cool where his wrist touched her.

He slid his hand around, until it rested flat against her arm. No burning sensation. No sucking undertow of awesomeness. Good. Great. He marshaled his mental reserves and took a shot at telepathy. He called to Rose, wondering if she would sense him mind to mind. Was he even telepathic in this body? The Vortex had drawn him in before, but that could be some type of hallucination. He gave her a moment, and then called again.

Rose? Can you hear me? Rose. Come back.

He sensed something. The something approached him. It was the size of a planet, and twice as fast. He braced for an impact, but it didn't hit him. Instead, it stopped and scanned him. He felt the assessment of a thousand pairs of eyes. He might have been on stage at the Old Vic, naked and encircled by a thousand critical wolves. The wolves found him wanting and sprang toward him. Something else batted him aside. Once again, he tumbled backward, landing on soft sand. This time Jackie wasn't holding onto him.

Rose stirred and spoke. “Is it you?”

It took him a beat to distinguish between his mental Rose and the one in the flesh, to realize he was hearing her voice, using his ears as well as telepathy. Her brown eyes were open and focused on him. He breathed out a long sigh. Tears blurred his vision. One splashed onto her hand, as he nodded an enthusiastic affirmative.

“It's me. Truly. Whole and complete in one body. Hello,” he said. Then, grinning madly, he gathered her into his chest.

She did not reach for him. He cradled her, rocking back and forth, his nose buried in her hair. She lay unresponsive in his arms, while Jackie patted them both and peppered them with questions. None of her worries registered as important. He didn't care what happened next. Couldn't be bothered thinking about the future. This was enough for now. He wanted to sleep like this, curled around Rose on the sand. It seemed like he'd been running for 900 years, without pausing for even a day. Finally, he could rest. It dawned on him that this might have been what the Ood had been talking about with the singing. We shall sing you to your rest. And what had 2005 Rose told him? Maybe it's time you went home.

“I'm home! Yes!”

“Is that a helicopter?” Jackie asked. The question and a strange buzzing broke into his reverie. “That humming noise?”

“Torchwood,” Rose said, pushing to be free of his hold. “Can you see them?”

He sighed and shifted back, releasing her. “Can't be. We're galaxies away from their influence. Centuries ahead.” But Rose was rolling to her knees. He stood with her, keeping her close by offering assistance.

She took his help, but only, he suspected, because she needed it. “What do you mean galaxies away? Where are we?”

“Ah, not quite sure, at the moment. What do you remember?”

She avoided his eye as she slapped sand from her backside. “I remember you leaving. After you promised you never would.”

She sounded angry and he wanted to claim he'd come back, but she'd find out soon enough. He never could keep things from her. “You brought me back,” he told her. “You and the TARDIS. Working together.”

“Me? I didn't do anything. I just passed out,” Rose said. “And woke up here.”

Was she feigning innocence? Or did she truly not remember? “Why did you ask if it was me?”

“I—I don't,” she frowned over that one, fingertips massaging her brow. “It just seemed like you. I can tell.”

“And you didn't even have to kiss me,” he said, letting some of his own ire show.

“That kiss was his idea. That's what he whispered in my ear, 'kiss me.' So I did. And I didn't know you'd run off as soon as my back was turned, did I?”

“I thought you might want some privacy.”

“You abandoned us to—what? What is going on?”

“Where are all the people?” Jackie said, repeating what he felt was a pertinent question and forestalling a fight. She'd been trying to gain his attention for a few minutes. “It's a bright sunny day at the beach. There's a city. Why are there no people? And what is that noise?”

Mouth half-open, he considered her questions. He looked up and down the beach. Nobody. Not a soul. The beach was deserted. And the boardwalk. And, as far as he could tell, the city. No horns honked. No smokestacks smoked. There were no planes in the air. No birds. Or bird-like beings. No vehicles, or boats, or strollers or fisherman. And now he'd focused on that droning, it was definitely—definitely what? Not a helicopter. Not mechanical. Organic? Insects, maybe.

His gaze darted toward the spaceport. For the first time, he registered the strings of brightly colored flags fluttering across every roadway. Red, gold and green banners. They appeared to be wrapped with silver filigree. A celebration? No! If the year was 2785 it was The Celebration! He checked the sky again. This was the Cigna System. If his calculations were correct, and he came first in manipulator maths, they had arrived just in time for the Wedding That Changed History! They should have landed in the middle of the biggest party this part of the universe had ever seen. But that would mean scads of people around them. Every dignitary in the surrounding twenty systems attended the union of the two greatest space-faring peoples of this era. The beach should have been standing room only.

He grabbed at Rose's wrist, twisting around her to read the Manipulator's display screen. “Oh, no. No. This is bad. Very bad. There should be people. Lots of...people.” He glanced up and back at the quiet city.

“That's what I said,” Jackie told him.

“Where are they?” Rose asked. He could feel her pulse quicken under his thumb.

“I don't know. But that sound is familiar. It's...”

Panic again. His throat clenched around a jagged lump. His tongue seemed too dry. Before he could make anything out of these instinctive reactions, Jackie screamed and backpedaled into him. Following the direction of her gaze, he saw his worst fears realized. Something was cresting the dunes, spilling onto the beach. A scuttling, silver-black army of legs and pincers and eye-stalks poured across the sands.

“Run,” Rose said, setting words to action.

He dug in his heels and spun her back into him. “We can't outrun them. Grab your mum.”

Rose reached out for Jackie and, as soon as she had a secure hold, he punched the mauve button again. This time there was almost no sensation at all, but the world melted and reformed. They were standing in the same spot on the beach only the sun had shifted in the sky. It seemed to be mid-morning. All around them, brilliantly iridescent butterfly people frolicked and laughed. They had willowy figures and gossamer wings. Several sipped sweet treats from long stemmed flower-like glasses. Those revelers close by, nodded in a friendly fashion, obviously used to strangers popping out of nowhere. Tiny personal transport pods darted across the sky, leaving vibrant contrails.

“Where are we?” Jackie gasped, completely missing all of the obvious signs that they were on the same beach.

“When are we?” Rose corrected, cocking an eyebrow at him as she waited for more info.

“Three weeks earlier,” he said. Puffing out a breath, he tried to relax. He dragged his free hand through his hair. His other hand refused to let go of Rose. “Residual energy in the device. Enough to skip us back to an earlier time.”

“How did you know that would work?” Jackie asked.

“ Fail-safe. Built-in. If you go forward, whatever you are trying to avoid still happened, enemies remember you, debts are accruing interest.”

“I mean, how did you know those bug things weren't here already?” She clarified.

“Oh,” he said. “I didn't.”

Jackie threw both hands into the air, completely exasperated.

“Three weeks?” Rose looked around. “But...there are so many people. That would mean...”

“All of this,” he confirmed, waving vaguely, “is going to disappear. Twelve billion people gone. They have less than a month.”

“How?”

“Digested,” he said, his fingers finding hers and curling around them. “All of them, flesh and bone and memories. Consumed by the K'anB'akiur Scourge. The thing is it should be impossible. The Scourge died out ages earlier. At least,” he amended, “in our former reality.”

“What are we going to do?” Rose said.

“Leave,” Jackie said flatly. She pulled at Rose's other hand and pointed toward a distant set of scaffolding. “There's a space port, right? We find a ship and leave.”

“Yes,” he agreed, casting a sidelong glance at Rose. He couldn't argue with that. He wasn't the Doctor anymore. He was just a man. They had no plan. There would be no regenerating. He was completely vulnerable. No TARDIS. Time to try caution on for size. “We should go.” When she lifted her questioning gaze to meet his, the hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Isn't that what people are supposed to do? Run away from trouble?”

“Other people,” Rose said, and he felt sure she was suppressing her own slight smirk.

“Smarter people,” he confirmed, holding her eyes.

“Not you two, then?” Jackie said.

A mad glee took hold of him and he grinned broadly. Rose beside him; trouble ahead. The urge to run swept down his body and he bounced up on the balls of his feet. The bouncing reminded him that he had to pee. He glanced around in some distress. For the first time in 900 years, he found himself wondering if butterfly people had bathrooms.

“Allons y,” Rose said, finally smiling.

Tightening his grip on her hand, he took off for the boardwalk. They weaved through the crowd, him towing along Rose, who kept a firm grasp on Jackie. Holding onto one another, that was the human way of surviving, right? He might adjust to this, yet.


END THIS PART

Part Three